


new moon

by erythea



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, are they dating? i don't know, but this isn't about him, references to Second Advent (actually just Cassius), spoilers for Seeds of Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erythea/pseuds/erythea
Summary: It's late. Quatre finds Djeeta on the pier, looking up at the sky, and his heart soars.
Relationships: Quatre | Feower/Djeeta (Granblue Fantasy)
Kudos: 19
Collections: GBF Secret Santa 2020





	new moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Shiratoriis](https://twitter.com/Shiratoriis) for GBF Secret Santa 2020. Happy holidays! I don't know where I was going with this, but from one yumejoshi to another... I hope you like it. LOL
> 
> I stared at Quatre too much while writing this and now he's my favorite Eternal. It's the Fukujun.

“Quatre?”

Others call the captain of the Grandcypher the singularity, but to Quatre, she’s just Djeeta. When he approaches her in the evening quiet of Auguste’s shores, she doesn’t aim the hot barrel of a gun at his temple, nor does she unsheath the revenant blade forged with her strength and magic. He doesn’t mean to surprise her with his mere presence at the pier, but he does. When their eyes meet, the tables turn.

Quatre looks away.

He knows he should keep his eyes on the enemy, but Djeeta laughs, the sound clear and bright, and he averts his gaze before it overwhelms him. She’s too soft. Maybe it’s because she’s strong. People can afford many things when they are strong.

“You should be in bed, sleepyhead,” says Djeeta. She tucks locks of her hair behind her ears as they try to dance in the ocean air. 

“Did my sister put you up to that?” Quatre snorts, amused by the thought. He never slept this early back home. He can’t imagine what would happen if he did. “Don’t worry about me. I’m used to staying up at this hour.”

She huffs, hugging herself and rubbing her arms for warmth — things that wouldn’t happen if she’d thought this night walk through. “Esser didn’t tell me a thing, but just because you  _ can  _ doesn’t mean you  _ should_.”

“I could say the same for you,” he replies. The captain of a ship shouldn’t work themselves too hard. He drapes his jacket around her shoulders, never sparing it a second thought. “It's late. You'll catch a cold if you stay out too long.”

Part of Quatre expects her to rebel and stay, but Djeeta hangs her head low, her hair framing her face like curtains.

“Thanks. Um…”

She tugs the jacket around her. Quatre can’t see her eyes, but his trained ears hear the difference in her breath—the small gasp after the beat her heart skips, the quiet trembling in the back of her throat.

Strange. Was this part of being strong?

“A-and you?” Djeeta finally musters, her chin up high. “What about you? If  _ I _ can catch a cold now, then shouldn't  _ you _ be sleeping too?”

“And who made you the boss of me?” he asks, unaffected.

“I’m the captain!” she cries.

“Of  _ your _ crew.” He takes a seat next to Djeeta, his hand inches away from hers. “My sister and the children are asleep now, so I can do whatever I want.”

Djeeta laughs again and the sound soothes him more than any rolling wave. “Well, that goes for me, too! Now that Lyria and Vyrn are asleep, I can stay up and… play on the beach!”

She swings her legs at the edge of the pier.

“By yourself?” He raises a brow. It isn’t like her to be alone. Six said something about it before: how Djeeta would smile in the face of danger, of despair, of loss and sacrifice; and how she would hide her tears.

“Well…” Djeeta starts as she plays with her hair, “maybe I just wanted to hang out with you, too.”

Quatre purses his lips.

“Listen, Djeeta. The last time we came here, the mafia was on our heels. They’d recognize my ears anywhere, but these days, you’re a bigger target. If they catch you—”

Quatre is about to say something about bones breaking and fates worse than death, but Djeeta pokes his cheek and his mind goes blank. Her touch sends a wave of heat across his face, and she grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief and not a care in the world. The world stops. His lips part. He can’t see anything else.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a hand on his pink cheek.

“Setting Quatre to vacation mode,” Djeeta replies and sticks out her tongue. “The switch was right there.”

He stares at her in equal parts confusion and disbelief. “I had a switch?”

“Yeah! I made it just now,” Djeeta preens, satisfied with her work. “You can’t turn it off without my permission.”

Quatre frowns. “Frankly, Djeeta, I think this is oppression.”

“Then why can’t I stay up and you can?” She puffs up her cheeks. “It’s not fair. I bet you want the beach all to yourself.”

“I do not,” he says tiredly.

“I bet you want to do something super embarrassing. Is that why you're up now?” She wears an impish look as her hand excuses the giggles bubbling out of her mouth. “It’s okay, Quatre. You can do it now! I won’t show Esser. Heh heh heh...”

Quatre leans back and narrows his eyes at her. “What are you implying? Stop that. You look like Siete.”

“Urk. I’ll stop.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Seriously though,” Djeeta says when she recovers, energy returning to the arcs she makes with her feet, “the moon's big and full tonight, so I thought I'd look at it until I had the image burned in my mind. It’s really pretty!”

The moon hangs in the sky, a white bulbous orb above the horizon. In the sea of the night, it is bigger than the airships passing by and through Auguste’s ports, their silhouettes stark against its bright surface. Quatre can’t tell what’s there to look at — at least not now — but Djeeta thinks it’s pretty.

“Lyria and Vyrn were looking for you. Can't you take a picture?”

Djeeta is sheepish. “I tried that once, but it didn't come out very good. The clouds got in the way while Chloe was helping me fix my camera, so I missed my chance.” Her hair flows down her shoulders as she looks back up at the sky. “Well, I don't mind! Some things are better when you see them for yourself, anyway.”

“That's true,” Quatre agrees. “I got to see real strength traveling with you.”

Djeeta sputters and keels over, covering her face again, and he wonders if she thinks he’s being funny.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“What? No!” She shakes her head, sits upright a little too fast, and laughs a little too loud. “It's just… What's with you all of a sudden?”

He thinks he’s the same as always, but he wonders why Djeeta has been hiding her face lately. Is she really that shy? Can she afford to be? Weakness is never a funny thing, yet Quatre’s smile reaches his eyes.

“You're the one acting weird. I'm just following your lead.” He follows Djeeta’s gaze toward the sky. "I’ve never seen the moon this big before… I wish I could show the children.”

Because the children of Stardust Town love the moon. It’s bigger and brighter than all the stars in the sky. Under its gentle glow, Esser sings the children lullabies, and the soft melody and memories of families they never had puts them all to sleep. Quatre loved the moon once, but night is when dangers lurk around every corner. The underbelly of their sorry town works under the light of the same sky. He thinks of this and remembers the faces of sleeping children yearning to live past tomorrow. When the moon shines brightly, he can’t sit still.

But Djeeta loves it, and Djeeta is strong.

Could he be strong like that, too?

“I don’t like the night,” Quatre admits when he thinks the waves can muffle his words, “I just don’t like anything that scares the children.”

Djeeta nods in understanding. She knows it’s not the entire truth, but she’s never been one to open old wounds.

“The moon is special to me,” Djeeta says instead. “Actually, I think you’re just like it.”

Quatre raises a brow. “What, that thing in the sky?”

“Uh huh. It’s bigger and brighter than any star.” Djeeta makes an arc with both hands outstretched, drawing a rainbow in the air. “I think the other stars look up to it! Wouldn’t it be nice if they were all one big family?”

“You’ve got a wild imagination, Djeeta.”

“Taking care of the stars is a huge responsibility, but the moon does it every night. That’s why the baby stars loooove their Mama Moon — just like how Stardust Town loves you!”

Quatre blushes and shrinks into his shoulders. “Stop it, seriously...”

Though he sounds exasperated, he smiles and leans back on his arms, watching the billions of stars twinkle with the light of the moon. He wonders how it keeps shining. He’s trying to do the same, but it never feels like it’s enough.

Djeeta giggles, but her next smile is faint. “But sometimes it tires the moon out. That’s why we don’t see it all the time — it’s resting. That’s what I think. Cassius would say I'm wrong, though.”

“I take breaks,” Quatre says with an indignant frown. “Who's Cassius?”

“A friend who knows a lot about the moon! If he were here, he'd say…” Djeeta clears her throat and speaks in a deeper, airy register. “Why do you conjure sentimental narratives for a location you've never been to? I find this highly illogical. Such matters will only hinder your nocturnal productivity.” She ends with an exaggerated shrug, “I do not comprehend fossil culture.”

“Fossil culture…?” Quatre makes a difficult face. “I know it's none of my business, but what kind of friends are you making?”

“Ones from places very far away!” Djeeta grins. “Beatrix introduced us. Are you jealous?”

“Why would I be?!”

Djeeta points and laughs at how red he is, and as astute as Quatre can be, he can’t fathom why she does.

Mostly though, he thinks he’s lacking imagination.

“I like this,” Djeeta says when she catches her breath. “I like this version of you. You were so high-strung when we first met, but now we can talk about anything!”

Quatre feels his cheeks burn up and he needs a distraction. He blows stray locks of hair out of his face. “A lot of things have changed since then,” he mumbles in between uncharacteristic fidgets and sidelong glances. “We have more allies, our family is bigger…”

“You feel safer?” she offers. “That means you’re stronger than before.”

He frowns. “I can't be complacent. The town’s reconstruction is going well and we can take the Magasin family on with our numbers, but for what comes after that… I just— I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“Mm, yeah. I get you.” Djeeta nods, her smile small as she pulls his jacket tighter around her. “Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to get what we want… but we all have some things we don’t want to lose no matter what.”

In that moment, Quatre remembers what Siete told him: Djeeta is the singularity — she has the power of the stars and the sky. She could make anything come true if she wanted it to.

When their eyes meet again, Quatre believes it.

This is why she’s strong.

“Whatever it is,” he says, looking away and ignoring the beat of his heart, “I’m sure it’s not sleep.”

“We’re still talking about that?” She laughs, the sound like a wind chime in the summer breeze. “I’m the one telling you to rest here!”

“You’re one to talk,” Quatre huffs. “Who’s the one frantically running around the Grandcypher everyday? You take jobs left and right, you barely have any time for—”

Before Quatre can finish, Djeeta does what he least expects her to.

She rests her head on his lap.

He’s never been good at this sort of affection — with an outsider, no less — but is Djeeta still a stranger? Her hair tickles his skin and it’s a weird feeling. The strongest entity in the skies is before him, a young man weaker than all the Astrals and all the beasts she’s seen, and yet Djeeta looks up at him with a joy he’s never seen before. As her cheeks grow warm with color, she murmurs a question that nearly drowns in the soft crashing of waves against the shore: “Do you want me to make time?”

“That’s not what I said.” But Quatre feels his face grow hot.

“Then what do you want to say?” Djeeta chuckles, her voice soft like sea foam, and Quatre asks the gods to give him strength.

“I’m saying you should get some rest, too,” he insists.

“I'm resting now,” she whispers, that shy tremble returning to her words. “You don't like it?”

"It's not a matter of whether I like it—”

“Quatre,” she says, and he listens. “Can’t you be more selfish?”

He bites his lip and holds back another  _ but. _ “Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.”

“I know,” she whispers, “but Esser and the children are asleep now, so you can do whatever you want, right? I bet it’s so embarrassing...”

“Shut up,” Quatre hushes, blushing furiously. “Stop making things up.”

“Are you saying it’s not embarrassing?” she teases.

“I’m saying,” he growls, “You shouldn’t tempt me.”

Quatre leans in, brings Djeeta close, and as their lips touch, he learns why the moon hides from the night sky.


End file.
